


Mortar

by wenwen



Series: Home [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Hargreeves trying to adult, Canon-Typical Violence, Dysfunctional Family, Everyone Has Issues, Family Bonding, Fix-It, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Protective Siblings, Questionable Life Decisions, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Rivalry, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 05:01:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenwen/pseuds/wenwen
Summary: Vanya says, "Let's run away," and Ben can't help but think, 'That's a logistical nightmare.'But Ben knows that a plan to run away will only work if all his siblings agree to work together, knows when to bide his time, so he doesn't say anything when his siblings descend into a furiously hissed argument.





	Mortar

**Author's Note:**

> hey ho it's been six months sup fam  
This is a direct sequel to Hearth.

Vanya says, "Let's run away," and Ben can't help but think,  _ That's a logistical nightmare. _

There are six of them, all sixteen, and all orphans -- there's nowhere for any of them to go. How will they get food or money? Where will they live? More importantly, how will they all live together when the Hargreeves mansion, which takes up an entire block, is still too small a roof to keep them all from fighting like cats and dogs?

Ben is the only freaking adult in the family because he doesn't have beef with any of his siblings. Diego always clashes with Luther and doesn't have much to do with Allison -- but when they do fight, it's nasty and vicious, because they don't hesitate to go for where they know it will hurt the other the most. Klaus snipes at Allison and Luther like he needs it as much as breathing, needles Vanya and Ben and Diego when he's feeling mean. Numbers One thru Three see Four and Seven with a kind of patronizing affection because he can't keep it together and she doesn't have powers. Ben, because of his transdimensional demons and because he can keep himself and his issues in check, doesn't have the same problem. 

The smaller numbers are reluctant to leave; Luther because of his commitment to duty and to Dad, Diego because of Mom, and Allison because no matter what happened, the Umbrella Academy is still home. The latter numbers have much less of an attachment to this place.

But Vanya is right -- Ben can see them all hurtling towards some messy, explosive end, and not just because of the missions they face. 

Luther will crumble, quietly so no one can see, and Klaus loudly to hide the way he drowns. Allison will spin herself into a trap that catches only herself, Diego will pick a fight he can't win because he doesn't know what to do with himself if not fighting, and Vanya will fade until she's nothing more than the ghosts Klaus sees.

And Ben -- it's only a matter of time before They become too much for him to contain.

But Ben knows that a plan to run away will only work if all his siblings agree to work together, knows when to bide his time, so he doesn't say anything when his siblings descend into a furiously hissed argument -- but he does catch Vanya's eye and nod, once. She quirks a shadow of a smile at him and stops wilting.

Klaus starts on him after breakfast, when they're meant to be sparring. He's distracted, as he usually is, eyes drifting to things that aren't there as he and Ben circle each other on the mats. 

Allison's grappling with Luther on the other side of the room as Diego watches with arms crossed. She's fast and flexible enough that Luther can't pin her, slithering out from his attempted throw as he loses his grip on her arm. Their spar is energetic and a display of both their prowess -- everything Ben and Klaus' match is not. 

Ben grabs Klaus' arm above the elbow when his brother takes a half-hearted swipe at his arm, swinging around inside his guard to send Klaus tumbling to the floor. Klaus groans, flat on his back, and blinks owlishly up at the ceiling. Ben waits for him to get up.

After a moment Klaus rolls over and props himself up on his elbows, batting his eyelashes at Ben. "Hey, bro," he purrs, but it's got none of his usual bravado. "Has what dear little Vanya said crossed your mind today?"

Ben isn't ready to have this conversation because of course it had, but agreeing or disagreeing isn't as simple as that. There's going to be strategy involved, not just tactics, and a thousand factors to consider before he can even think about making his decision known.

Klaus doesn't care about much, but when he does sink his teeth into an idea he's hard-pressed to let it go. "We need to get out of here, Ben," he says earnestly, pushing laboriously to his feet to resume his slow circling. "Go out into the big, wide world. Think of all the freedoms waiting for us out there, all the -- !" He mimes taking a swig from a bottle and lowers his voice to an earnest whisper. “The _ Vitamin E.” _

"Uh huh," says Ben patiently. He's about eighty-five percent sure that his brother hasn't actually tried hard drugs yet. He dodges around Klaus' punch and shoves a hand between his shoulderblades. "You're not really selling it, you know."

Klaus trips forward, narrowly avoiding planting his face in the mats. He wheels around. "Donuts!" he hisses. "With powdered…powdered sugar! None of this physical stuff!"

"You know I like the 'physical stuff' just fine," says Ben mildly, twisting a leg between Klaus' to bring them both tumbling down. He lands on top of Klaus, pins his wrists to the floor with both hands. 

Klaus smirks up at him. "I bet you do," he purrs.

Ugh. 

“I hope you’re using protection, whatever hijinks you’re getting up to,” Ben informs his brother. “I can name a dozen STDs off the top of my head.”

Klaus stares back at him with growing horror. “Why do you -- are you trying to give me The Talk?”

“Klaus,” says Ben seriously, “when a girl and a boy or a boy and a boy or a girl and a girl or a -- ”

“Okay!” Klaus yelps, and wriggles out from under him in sheer desperation. “Don’t get your old man panties in a twist, I’m not having sex  _ with anyone _ right now, let’s never talk about this ever again. Good talk!” He flees, loudly inviting a bewildered but willing Diego to spar instead. 

Ben hops to his feet, relieved, because he didn't  _ actually  _ want to give Klaus The Talk. 

Klaus --

Klaus might be a problem, not because he doesn't want to go (he does) but because of what he'd do once he did.

That's another thing. Running means no Umbrella Academy, no missions, no lessons or training, none of everything that makes up every second of every day of their lives here. They never had to think about their future because here, their lives are mapped out for them in exquisite detail.

Ben knows his siblings well enough to know that though running is on their minds, what comes next is not. 

Allison almost runs him over in the hallway on her way to the bathroom when the blare of the mission alarm jolts Ben from a deep sleep and sends him staggering out of his room. “Oops, sorry -- Ben, you’re still wearing your pajamas,” she giggles.

Ben looks down, squinting because he still can’t get his eyes to open properly. He is. “Grarrgh,” he mumbles and retreats back to his room. 

“Children!” Their father’s voice cracks under the low wail of the siren, as effective as a bucket of cold water, and Ben nearly overbalances as he fumbles with his pants. “You have forty-five seconds to assemble outside!” 

The familiar slide of pre-mission dread slithers down his back as he slides his domino mask into place, constricting his lungs and making the overhead siren twice as piercing. When he opens the door the second time he can hear Luther’s heavy footsteps thundering down the stairs, and the flash of Diego’s shadow as he leaps past Klaus at the top of the bannister. Allison’s just coming out of the bathroom and she flashes him a smile. Her uniform is perfectly in place, her tie knotted evenly and hair gathered up out of her face. Ben tries a returning smile that turns out more like a grimace and she pats his arm sympathetically but without much understanding as she hurries past.

Vanya is supposed to be asleep since she doesn't come on missions, but not even she can sleep through the mission alarm. There’s soft strains from her violin drifting from behind her closed door, something sad and slow and haunting. Ben feels it sink into his chest like an omen, dark and foreboding as he jogs by. But the mission can't wait and their father definitely won't so he swallows it down and takes the steps two at a time.

The clock in the hallway tolls as he skids across the foyer. It's two in the morning; they'll probably make the early morning news. Mom's at the entryway, and her skirts rustle as she turns. "Ben, dear." She holds something long and black out to him and he takes it instinctively without slowing.  _ "Himnae,"  _ she says, smiling. 

"Thanks, Mom!" he calls over his shoulder. She's given him an umbrella, but he has about five seconds to get to the car so he doesn't bother opening it as he hurtles out the front door. 

It's pouring miserably. That figures. 

It's ten feet from the front door to the car, and Ben's uniform is damp through by the time he ducks into the backseat and slams the door closed. Allison makes a dismayed sound as he splashes the interior with rainwater and Diego squashes himself against the far door and complains, "C'mon, man." 

"Sorry," Ben pants. "My bad." The car peels away from the curb the second the door shuts, and Ben barely catches himself against the door handle before he can wrangle his seatbelt into place. 

"Mission briefing," Luther starts, ignoring them. "This morning around fifty minutes after midnight, twenty-seven inmates assaulted guards and twelve successfully escaped from a maximum security prison in upstate New York, armed with pistols and batons. Our job is to contain and/or incapacitate them for law enforcement."

"Oh goodie, a prison break," Klaus mutters from where he's sprawled half off the seat. He hasn't bothered with his seatbelt. "What'll it take to get one of those in here?"

He too is summarily ignored. That is at least a little in part for his own sake, since their father is sitting in the same car even if he's in the front seat and probably not paying much attention to them. 

"Estimated time of interception is thirty minutes," Luther continues. "The targets are traveling in a transport bus but probably will try to change vehicles at the next city." The car makes a hairpin turn, and Klaus scrabbles at the seat as he slides into Luther, who shoves him back upright without looking up. "For this mission -- "

"Put your seatbelt on, bro," Diego snaps. 

" -- the best-case scenario -- "

"Make me," Klaus says, sticking his tongue out and waggling his hands by his ears for good measure.

" -- is that we can get to -- "

"You go head first out the window you're gonna feel real stupid," Diego says, sitting back with his arms crossed.

" -- the targets before they -- "

"Maybe if we're all lucky I'll just die," Klaus snipes back.

" -- can get to somewhere populated. Klaus, put on your seatbelt. Diego, quit interrupting me," Luther orders.

Both of them immediately turn on Luther. "It's my life," Klaus spits, and Diego growls, "Nobody cares, bro."

Luther's eyes narrow as he succumbs to a hissed argument with the other two. Ben sighs silently and lets his head thump back against the cold glass of the window. It was kind of funny when they were kids, watching them squabble, but now they're all older and meaner and spoiling for blood. It's not amusing anymore, just grating. 

"Stop," says Allison, but the others aren't paying attention and her voice is too tired to have any kind of authority. 

Ben tips his head over and they lock eyes, and the same fatigue and worry and resolution he feels he sees in her gaze.  _ Ah,  _ he thinks. She's ready. She's not just wishing for a change now, she sees that it's unavoidable. 

"Hey!" Allison barks, and the other three sink into an abrupt, sullen silence. "We have a mission, guys, keep it together for that long. Luther, let's skip to the assignments." Her tone brooks no argument. Diego opens his mouth anyways.

"Please, guys," Ben interjects. "I just want to get this over with."

Diego closes his mouth.

"Right," says Luther, clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly. "Diego, you'll take out the tires so they can't move. I'm going to take the direct approach and Allison will be my backup."

"Uh, didn't you say they had guns?" Klaus drawls. "Open space, no cover. You're not bulletproof, big guy."

"We choose the ambush site," Luther says, undeterred. "We pick somewhere with trees on either side. Me and Allison frontal approach, Diego covers us, and once we get everyone out in the open, Ben can take them all out. Klaus, you're on lookout. Spot for stragglers or other people in the area."

"Great," says Ben weakly, sinking back into his seat. The rain is pounding the window outside and he can feel its chill through the thin pane. He lets the rhythmic tattoo drown out his siblings' voices.

Why does Ben want to leave?

He doesn't want to hurt anyone but he's a mass murderer with a body count in the hundreds, at least. The others can all choose to be non-lethal and they do, but Ben only has one setting on his power: kill.

Diego looks up when Ben wanders in. “‘Sup,” he says, turning disinterested eyes back on his book. He's sprawled in the chair at his desk, rocking back to balance precariously on the two back legs.

"Hey," says Ben, raising his copy of  _ 1984\.  _ He kicks off his shoes and sprawls out on Diego's bed. Morning lessons were cancelled in light of their early morning mission but afternoon study session was not. Ben is wrinkled and raw and twenty minutes out of an hour and a half shower and he's still not entirely sure all the viscera is out of his hair. 

He settles in to read. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Diego tossing one of his knives straight up and catching it by the handle again every time even without looking. But even with that to keep his free hand busy, the furrow between Diego’s eyebrows deepens -- he’s not actually reading, not when that takes all his concentration on a good day.

“I wanna go out tonight,” says Ben, and flips the page in his book with studied nonchalance. It’s phrased like a statement but it’s really a request, because Diego’s the only one who really sneaks out or can sneak other siblings out, and more importantly, back in. 

Diego nearly stabs himself in the palm when he falters his catch. His chair lands back on all four legs with a thump. “You?” he checks. “Want to go out?”

Ben frowns at him over the top of his book. “Yeah,” he says.

Diego stares at him back, then shrugs. “All right, sure, whatever. I’ll come get you when it’s clear. Bring your own money; I’m not shelling out for you.”

“Cool,” says Ben, and ignores the frisson of excitement down his back as he turns back to his novel.

It’s hard to ignore, because it stays with Ben through dinner and evening lessons, and hovers at the back of his mind as he goes through the motions of getting ready for bed. It’s a little past 1 A.M. when Diego opens his door so quietly that Ben nearly has a heart attack and loses control of Them. He clutches his heart and stomach in tandem. Diego is not impressed.

His brother jerks his head towards the staircase and Ben slides out of bed to follow. Mom is easy to avoid -- she’s humming quietly in the library as she sews, mending torn uniforms by hand one stitch at a time. Their father will be in his study or sleeping, so as long as they don’t make noise, he won’t know where they go.

Diego freezes midstep and Ben nearly crashes into him when his brother takes a careful step backwards, around the bend of the bannister and frantically motions Ben to crouch. Ben folds himself into the corner, and when Pogo steps slowly into the foyer and peers up at the shadowed stairs, stops breathing. Diego is wound up and tense, his own breath still in his chest, but after a long moment, Pogo turns away and moves out of sight.

Five, ten long seconds pass. Diego pats Ben’s knee and pushes off, stealing down the stairs on light feet. Ben hurries to follow. 

Murky shadows drape over the streets, but Diego navigates unerringly, no hesitation in his steps as he cuts down narrow alleys and zigzags his way east. "All right," he tosses over his shoulder once they're a quarter mile away from the Academy. "Where'd you wanna go? There's a twenty-four hour diner three blocks down, corner grocer open til two five blocks in the other direction, park --

"Actually," Ben interrupts, "I wanted to look at some…some houses. Or apartments, I guess."

Diego stares at him like he's grown an extra head. "You want to look at what?"

"Apartments," Ben repeats. "You know -- kinda like small versions of houses stacked on top of each other, typically rented out monthly -- "

"I know what an apartment is," Diego says slowly. "Why do you want to look at apartments?"

Ben swallows and shivers as the wind cuts through his uniform jacket. It's not raining anymore, but the cold and the damp still cling to the air. "For us," he says. "If we run."

Diego is a born protector, like a German Shepherd dog with the instincts to guard and defend. It's why he still believes in their missions even if he picks a fight with Luther every time, even if he hates the things their father makes them do. He stops dead in the street and turns to face Ben. "You wanna run?" he asks seriously. 

Ben shrugs. "Keeping the option open," he deflects. "You know I don't like missions."

"You help people on missions!" Diego protests, drawing back incredulously.

Maybe Diego does, but Ben? "I kill people," Ben corrects.

He expects his brother to say something like,  _ Same difference, _ or,  _ Yeah, but you save people too,  _ or,  _ They're bad guys, they deserve it,  _ but instead Diego opens his mouth and then stops and looks at him, really looks at him, and says, "Is that what you think about missions? That you just go out and kill people?"

This is dangerously close to admitting weakness, and they don’t do that -- not to each other, when all of them are locked in an endless competition every second they’re awake and even still when they’re asleep. Maybe it’s the hour that brings out the honesty; maybe it’s the memory of blood and rent flesh sliding across his face and down his neck, but Ben is tired. "Yeah," he says, and it feels like a confession. 

Diego doesn’t react at first, but his hand opens and closes unconsciously, itching for the familiar weight of a knife -- not to stab Ben, obviously, but just to have something to focus on. “Okay,” he says at last, nonchalant. 

“Okay?” Ben parrots.

Diego shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I guess we can look at apartments. Just in case.” 

It's a couple blocks of mostly aimless wandering before Diego fishes a crumpled copy of yesterday's paper out of the trash. He pauses to make a disgusted noise at the sports section before extracting the pages with the classifieds. "All right," he says, passing them over to Ben. "Where do you want to go first?"

No one in the city would show an apartment to a couple of teenagers at two in the morning, which is fine because they can show themselves. It's just another block and a half to the closest listing. It's in a building with a lobby and a drowsy security guard, but the apartment's only on the fourth floor so Diego leaps up to the fire escape, landing nearly soundlessly, and then reaches down to help Ben swing up. 

Diego pries the window open with a thin knife and lets them in. The walls cut the wind chill, to Ben's relief, and his tremors start to settle. The apartment is dark and silent and empty, and Diego creeps into the hallway ahead of him with one hand hovering above the knife sheathed at his waist. Ben stays back, in the living room, poised to duck back out the window, but Diego comes back relaxed. "All clear," he reports. "Place is empty." They don’t turn on the lights. 

"What do you think?" asks Ben, edging forward into the kitchen. The entire thing could fit in Allison's closet. The linoleum floor has dirt caked in at the edges and a collection of strange stains.

"Small," says Diego. 

This is true. Ben investigates the bedrooms -- two -- and the sole bathroom and comes up with the same first impression. Two of them standing in the same bare bedroom already makes it feel crowded. "Maybe not this one," he says. He's accepted that the six of them are going to have to share a considerably smaller roof and likely rooms as well, but three per room in this particular apartment's probably not going to cut it. 

"All right," says Diego with a shrug. Back out the window they go. 

Ben shivers violently when the wind sweeps between the building, and he can feel goosebumps rising along his arms and rubbing against the inside of his sleeves. “N-next one’s t-three blocks e-east,” he gets out, teeth chattering. He’s holding the paper in one hand but shaking too much to really be able to read it.

“Christ,” says Diego in disgust, eyeing Ben. “Why didn’t you wear your coat? Come on, man.”

It hadn’t been that cold earlier that day, even before it stopped raining. “I’m f-fine,” Ben says, huddling down into his uniform jacket. He rolls up the newspaper with numb fingers and shoves it in his pocket. “Let’s just go.”

But Diego’s already taking his coat off, advancing on Ben grimly. “Put it on,” he orders, thrusting it in his direction. “I’m not dealing with you summoning eldritch horrors  _ by accident  _ when you sneeze.” 

“That happened  _ once  _ and I was six!” Ben protests, but takes the coat anyways. 

"You're _ still _ Six," says Diego, and his smirk is lost in the darkness.

Luther sets down his spoon and it clatters against his oatmeal bowl, jarring Ben from a drowsy daze. He and Diego had gotten back to the Academy around 4 A.M. after visiting three other apartment listings, and Diego seems about as energetic as he normally is but Ben is on the brink of falling asleep sitting up. 

It’s breakfast, which is a no-talking zone, so no one says anything about his tiredness to his face until he’s supposed to be slogging through pre-calculus homework in the classroom. That someone is Luther, because the rest of their siblings escaped the classroom as soon as humanly possible. Ben couldn't muster the energy to move.

“Hey,” says Luther, when Ben’s head nods down too far and jerks him back awake. “You okay?”

“Tired. Didn’t sleep well,” Ben answers, and hopes his brother drops it. 

Ben is not lucky and never has been so he’s not surprised when Luther says, “Did you sneak out last night?” 

Ben hides a scowl at the obvious disapproval in his voice. “Even if I did, that’s none of your business,” he mutters, and flips the page even though he’s not done with the problem set. 

“I’m not going to lecture you,” Luther says after an abashed pause. “I’m just -- worried.”

“I’m not going to fall asleep during a mission,” Ben bites back, annoyed. He’s absolute pants at mathematics and Luther’s interruption-concern-annoyance combo is distracting him from understanding the questions written in his textbook.

"Uh. Good," says Luther awkwardly. Ben gives up on a question halfway and starts reading it from the beginning again. "I'm worried about you, though," Luther says. "Not-- not the mission. Well, not entirely," he amends when Ben shoots him an incredulous look.

"Stop the missions and I'll be fine," Ben says crabbily without thinking, and immediately regrets it. He should be watching his mouth around Number One who reports anything and everything to their father but he wants to sleep so badly he has no filter whatsoever. 

"You know that's not going to happen," Luther says eventually, his eyebrows pinched together. "They're important. It's what we're training to do."

"You really think the best thing we can do with our powers is run around beating up or killing robbers or whatever?" snaps Ben. "Isn't that what cops are for?"

"The cops can't do what we do," Luther argues. "We have powers. We can take care of dangerous situations without getting hurt."

"Yeah, because there's a thing called 'excessive force' that they're not supposed to use," Ben retorts. "And we  _ definitely _ do." Ben's entire existence is excessive force.

His brother doesn't have a ready response to that. They lapse back into silence. Ben starts over and rereads the same question for the fifth time. 

"Hypothetically," Luther says, when Ben has finally conquered the question and three more, "would you want to run away?"

There are serious alarm sirens blaring in Ben's mind. This isn't even subtle, for Luther, even if his brother is looking down at his own textbook with studied nonchalance. 

"Hypothetically," says Ben, "if Allison were to rumor Dad into letting us stop training and missions, I wouldn't stop her."

"Her rumors don't work on Dad," says Luther absently, then pauses and frowns. "Which is weird."

"They don't work on Mom," Ben interjects.

"Yeah, but I don't think Dad's a robot," Luther points out. "Do you?"

Ben takes a moment to consider. "Nope," he answers, somewhat reluctantly. Their father being a robot would be an easy explanation for his ruthlessness. 

"I don't think running away is a good idea," says Luther after another minute or two.

Ben's hard-pressed not to roll his eyes. Trust their father's perfect little soldier to say exactly that. "Yeah?" he says, irritation prickling at the edges of his skin. 

"Yeah," says Luther, oblivious to his sarcasm. "Forget the missions for a minute. Dad's training us to stop the apocalypse. Don't you think that's important enough to stay?"

"Human civilization had lasted for at least five thousand years, and they thought the world was going to end a dozen times before today. What makes you think the apocalypse is going to happen during our lifetimes?" Ben snaps. "We don't know the apocalypse is even going to happen, or that being able to summon demon tentacles from another dimension's going to help stop it."

Luther has nothing to say to that. Ben isn't so lucky that his brother would drop the subject entirely and is unhappily proved right when Luther knocks on his door in the middle of the night and sticks his head in Ben's room. 

"What time is it?" Ben slurs, disoriented. The moon's high in the sky, illuminating Ben's room, and Ben isn’t a fan of violence but he’s _ this _ close to throwing a lamp at his brother if it means he can go back to sleep. 

“Sibling meeting,” Luther says instead of answering. “Attic. Two minutes.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be  _ Number One?”  _ Ben hurls at his retreating back, because he’s feeling nasty and he just wants to sleep. “What, so you’re breaking rules left and right now?”

Only the quiet creak of Luther trying to sneak anywhere answers him. Ben lets his head thump back down to his pillow and seriously considers blowing off this meeting. There’s a shift of cloth and then Vanya peers in, loitering anxiously in the doorway. “Um,” she says. 

Vanya has the exact opposite problem as him -- she can’t kill so much as a fly, let alone a pack of escaped convicts, and she in fact is a little too killable without any powers. Their father constantly admonishes the rest of them to be gentle with her, but at least she isn’t as grating as some of their other siblings. But Vanya isn’t used to sneaking around the house at night so she’s probably nervous. Ben flops his blankets over his face to sigh before throwing them back. “Give me a sec,” he says, glaring at the ceiling.

Maybe they’re last to be called because they’re Six and Seven. Maybe Diego’s sneaking around again and Allison’s stealing a smoke in the attic and Klaus is in the cellar sampling swigs from a bottle, but there’s no one else in the hallway besides Vanya. She’s fidgeting, twisting her hands together over and over, so he takes her wrist and tows her gently towards the stairs. 

“He wake you up too?” Ben whispers over his shoulder. She nods silently. 

Allison’s already in the attic with Luther, and the scent of night air and cigarette smoke clings to her clothes and her hair. She smiles at them wryly as they slip in, and the pale moonlight spilling in through the skylight above her head illuminates her with an unearthly glow. 

They don’t speak, but even if they did they’d still hear Klaus’ labored breaths and misplaced footfalls as he climbs the stairs. The door creaks open a moment later and he’s not alone, but shadowed by a silent Diego, who shuts the door behind them and immediately growls, “Why are we here?”

Luther clears his throat. “I think we need to discuss what we’re going to do,” he says. “It’s come to my attention that we’re not all...happy with what we’re doing in the Academy.”

Ben stifles a snort. Next to him, Vanya hunches her shoulders.

“Yeah? What tipped you off?” Diego mutters. A knife appears in his hand, twirled absentmindedly as he takes a seat. 

“Finally,” groans Klaus, sprawling out on the floor. He has found a rhinestone-encrusted belt somewhere and it flashes when he moves. How he snuck anywhere in this house Ben has no idea. “Flying the nest, then, are we?”

“No!” Luther says quickly. “I just wanted to hear your thoughts on this. See if we can fix things.”

Klaus doesn't even try to hide his derisive snort. "You think dear old Dad will even consider giving us the time of day?"

"He doesn't take suggestions, he gives orders," Diego agrees. "So what if we don't like what he tells us to do?  _ He's  _ not going to change anything."

Ben can see the well-concealed panic on Luther's face when he realizes that the meeting is once again rapidly spiralling out of his control. "Okay, how about -- we need to approach this logically." 

"Fine," says Diego. "Here are the _ facts.  _ Ben and Klaus don't like missions. None of us like getting tortured by what Dad calls 'training.'"

"We leave, all of it stops," Klaus interjects helpfully. 

"Whoa," says Diego, leaning back. "That's not what I said."

Klaus rolls his eyes expressively. "I said it  _ for  _ you. Have you or have you not been taking Ben apartment hunting?"

Ben twitches. Diego stutters, "W-we d-didn't -- " as Allison demands, "You took Ben what?"

"W-we were just l-l-l-lookin' around," Diego defends. 

"Apartment hunting?" Luther says, thunderous and disappointed at once. 

Ben doesn't have to be clairvoyant to see the hissing fight in their near future, and Vanya is shrinking into herself further and further. "Guys," he says, and it's lost in Diego's snarled, "So what if I was?"

"We're a family, we do things together!" Allison snaps.

"Guys," Ben repeats, and then a little louder,  _ "Guys." _

He fully expects to be ignored again but Klaus purrs, "Hey, why don't we hear out Number Six? Or are the rest of us not important enough to have a say?"

That raises Diego's protective hackles and Luther's righteousness and Allison's chagrin. "Yeah, everyone gets a say," Diego says, glaring at Luther like it's a challenge.

"Fine," says Luther, crossing his arms, and glares back at Diego. "Go ahead, Ben."

Ben swallows as all his siblings' eyes land on him. "Allison's right," he says. "Any choice we make, we need to make it together." This is nothing revolutionary, and Allison and Luther are both nodding. But they still need that last push, and Ben feels the press of Vanya's arm against his own and draws the strength to bet his chips and hope the cards are good when he says, "We need to run away."

It doesn't have the same impact as when Vanya said it what feels like weeks ago, but his siblings all go quiet. It's been on all their minds, and Ben's gauged their reactions since then and he thinks it'll be enough.

"Two votes for running, two votes for running, can I get three?" says Klaus with studied carelessness, watching them each in turn with black-lined, unexpectedly sharp eyes. He’s looking to see where the pieces fall. "Number Six and Number Seven, oh wait! Me too! Three votes for running, can I get four?"

"You know what?" Diego says, jutting his chin out. "Yeah. Me too. I say we run."

Luther gapes at him. "You can't be serious." He turns incredulously towards Allison, who bites her lip. 

"I'm actually kind of…leaning towards leaving too," she admits. “This is home, but it’s -- it’s not working.” 

That's five for, one against. But Luther's a pretty big obstacle, both physically and in what he represents. "No," says Luther, staring at each of them in turn like he’s never seen them before. "We're not leaving. That's final."

"Bullshit," snaps Diego. “You don’t get to just decide that for the rest of us.” 

“Luther,” Allison says, reaching out to touch his arm. “We can’t keep going like this. Something’s going to break.”

“This is crazy,” Luther sputters. “We can’t just leave -- ”

“We have to,” says Vanya, the first thing she’s said since their meeting began. Her hands are clenched tightly in her lap but her eyes are steady.

“She’s right,” Ben adds. “We can’t stay. Luther, we need you. We need everyone. This only works with all of us working together.”

“I don’t know, I’d think we’d manage just fine,” Klaus says airily. "We don't need Dad's tin soldier snitching on us anyways."

"Klaus!" Allison hisses. 

"You gonna snitch on us?" Diego demands, his hands dropping down automatically for a knife. "You gonna snitch when you're the one who called us out here to begin with?"

"No!" protests Luther, holding up his hands. "Look, guys, I agree that it's not perfect here, but that doesn't mean we should _ run away from home." _

"Yes," says Ben, setting his jaw. "It does."

Two days later it's an uneasy sibling movie Sunday afternoon. Diego has thirty-two brand-new stitches and Luther has twelve and Klaus is a jittery mess from their last mission and Luther says, "Fine. We run away."

At first, not much changes. There's still training and missions and every time Ben comes back he's shaking and hollow. Sometimes he feels so numb inside that he wonders if he has already died but just hadn't noticed yet. But now it's like he drank three cans of energy drink and the adrenaline is buzzing under his skin because they're doing it, all six of them -- they're running away -- and before much longer it'll all end.

He sneaks out with Diego to run down apartment listings, sits with Allison to figure out things they'll need to get, puts his head together with Vanya to come up with a list of things they'll need to bring. 

"What happens when we go out there?" Vanya asks quietly, over the lists they've made buried under history notes. 

"I don't know," answers Ben truthfully. "What do you want to do?"

Imagining life without the Academy is difficult. Vanya struggles for a long moment and settles on a shrug. "I want to keep playing, I guess," she says, referring to her violin, and Ben hums. "What about you?"

Ben's never had any big dreams for his future. In that, at least, Vanya has an advantage over the rest of them. Allison's done research with Luther, come up with things like 'GED' and 'driver's license' and 'work permit' that they'll need once they're on their own. She mentioned something about 'emancipation' too the last time they talked but Ben doesn't know much about that. "I'll get a job," he says at last. Someone's going to have to be the adult in the family and it may as well be him. 

They're going to need money too, which is why Klaus is scheming to raid their father's study by way of making himself violently sick at the advent of their next mission. That won't get Pogo or Mom out of the way, which is why Vanya's been drawn in as a distraction. 

It's strange, all of them working more or less together with the same goal outside a mission. 

Of course, the sound of Luther and Diego spitting at each other like a couple of puffed-up cats rises from the dining room, and Ben drags Vanya's chair back with her in it just as a fork goes whizzing past to embed itself in the bookcase on the far wall. "Vanya's in here, guys," he calls, as the second bounces off the wall and clatters to the ground. 

The barrage of silverware stops. The sound of scuffling does not. “Sorry,” Ben tells Vanya, and scoots her chair forward again for her. Vanya just shrugs; this behavior isn’t unusual for their brothers. 

“So, um,” she says. “We have clothes, money -- do you think we could maybe have lists with different levels of importance?”

“Like, things that would be nice to have but aren’t the bare minimum?” Ben asks, and she nods. “Yeah, that’d be a good idea. Like...towels.” They could live without towels, but they wouldn’t necessarily enjoy it. 

“Bedsheets,” Vanya volunteers. “Maybe -- ”

Whatever she’s about to suggest is drowned out by the familiar wailing whoop of the mission alarm. Ben grimaces; Vanya jumps. “Keep working on that, if you want,” he suggests, and stands up to go.

“Be careful,” says Vanya, almost lost under the siren.

Klaus skids past, sliding on the slick tile as he scrambles for the stairs. “Oh my god,” he mutters manically. “This is my big moment.” He pops something into his mouth, spins in three rapid circles with his eyes squeezed shut, and promptly projectile vomits down the stairs. 

“Oh my god, Klaus!” Ben cries, covering his mouth and nose as he recoils. Vanya wrinkles her nose and retreats back into the study. 

Klaus moans, clutching at his stomach. “I think I’m sick,” he warbles, sounding absolutely miserable. 

Allison yelps, vaulting bodily over the railing to avoid the putrid mess and landing in a roll in the middle of the foyer. “That’s disgusting!” she cries, staggering to her feet. 

“Dad!” Luther calls, successfully keeping his revulsion from his voice if not his face. “Dad, Klaus can’t come, he’s sick!” 

“Aw, man,” says Diego, peering down from his perch on the top railing. “Gross.”

Klaus drags the back of his hand across his mouth. “No, guys, it’s fine, I can come,” he says entirely insincerely, and his eyes aren’t quite focusing. “It’s just a little -- ” He doubles over again and narrowly misses his own feet when he pukes.

“Number Four, go to the infirmary at once!” Their father orders, striding into the hall. He surveys the scene with clinical detachment. “The rest of you, the mission awaits. Come now.” He turns on his heel, clearly expecting to be followed, so Ben digs his domino mask out of his pocket and scrambles after him.

Ben glances over his shoulder as he goes in time to see Klaus give him a quavering thumbs up behind Mom's back as she descends on him with a fond "Klaus, _liebling,_ let’s get you fixed right up, hm?” and herds him back upstairs. He flashes his brother a finger gun before he's out the door and piling into the car with the rest of their diminished mission team.

Klaus being out means Ben gets bumped to lookout, which he couldn't be more thrilled about. “I feel so bad making you guys do all the work,” he says, unable to hide his glee, when they’re on the car ride back and he has absolutely no gore on him whatsoever. 

Diego shoots him a look that’s more indulgent than annoyed. “Uh huh,” he says. He’s moving a little stiffly because he’s popped some of his stitches, and crimson is slowly staining his uniform shirt

“The mission was a success, so good work, everyone,” Luther says. His arm is bound in a makeshift splint, probably broken, because he blocked a steel pipe awkwardly. His eyes are a little pinched at the corners, but otherwise he doesn’t look like he’s in pain. 

Allison shifts. She’s got bruises and a thin scratch under her chin but nothing major. “I hope Klaus is all right,” she says, deceptively light. “He didn’t look too good.”

Ben is still trying to figure out exactly what Klaus ate to make himself sick like that. 

“He’s fine,” says Diego, but his narrowed eyes say  _ or else.  _

Klaus is fine, when the rest of the straggle into the infirmary to let Mom check them over. It’s Vanya who’s a jittery mess, huddled to the side of the futon Klaus sprawls across. Ben’s not hurt and mostly there for moral support and to skive off studying so he wanders over to her as Allison helps Luther up onto the examination table. “Hey,” he says, and she jumps. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” says Vanya, twisting her hands together. It’s punctuated by Klaus’ open-mouthed snore. 

She doesn't look okay but Klaus seems perfectly fine. Ben takes a closer look at his sister. "You been taking your meds?" he asks in a low voice. 

Vanya starts again, even though he's made no sudden movement. "I forgot," she says roughly, reaching automatically for her pocket and its little bottle of pills. "Just the one from this afternoon, because Klaus -- " she waves a hand, which is a pretty good descriptor for anything involving Klaus. 

Vanya’s meds. Ben mentally adds that to the list of essentials they’ll have to take.

Luther's arm is pronounced badly bruised but not broken. Diego gets his stitches redone. Mom tapes the edges of Allison’s cut together and pats her knee and says, “There you go,  _ ma chèrie, _ all done.”

“Thanks, Mom,” says Diego, and Ben automatically joins in the dutiful chorus of, “Thanks, Mom,” even though he didn’t need patching up or even blood wiped off today. 

Mom gives them all a misty smile and peels off her gloves, gathering her surgical tools on their tray. “Oh, Mom, don’t worry about that,” says Diego, catching her by the wrist. “We’ll clean up, you go upstairs and have some rest.”

“Oh,  _ mijo,  _ you don’t have to do that,” protests Mom, but Diego lifts the tray from her hands. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists. “We got this.”

“Well,” says Mom, “if you’re sure. Thank you, _mijo, _you’re too sweet.” She touches his shoulder, feather-light, then clicks away in her heels towards the stairs. Diego watches her go, resigned and regretful and resolved. 

Ben gets up to follow her out, but Diego whips around and jabs a finger at him.  _ Stay,  _ he mouths silently, so Ben raises an eyebrow and sits back down. Diego puts the tray in the sink and turns the faucet on, leans out the doorway to make sure Mom’s gone, and then says, “Klaus, how’d it go?”

There’s no answer, of course, so Ben reaches around behind him and pats blindly at Klaus, who comes awake with a flinch and a slurred, “Whazzat?” 

“The study,” says Luther patiently. “Did you find anything?”

“Oh.” Klaus yawns, rolling onto his side so he can prop his head up with one hand and give their siblings a bleary stare. “Funny story, actually. I was kind of too busy throwing up to go anywhere but here.” 

Ben sighs. Allison rolls her eyes. Diego grits his teeth and glares at the tray of medical supplies murderously. 

“Fortunately,” Klaus continues brightly. “Dear little Vanya wasn’t throwing up.”

Vanya’s shoulders draw inwards like she’s a turtle retreating into its shell. Luther squints.

Diego demands, “You made  _ Vanya  _ do it?” 

“Hey, she’s fine,” Klaus defends. “She did great. Everyone wins.”

The way Vanya’s shrinking means she doesn’t think she did great. “I didn’t actually find much,” she mumbles. Her fidgeting has calmed down a little since she took her pills, but she’s still hunched and won’t meet anyones’ eyes. “His desk drawers and stuff are locked.”

Luther blows out a breath. “Okay,” he says. “We need to steal a key or pick the locks.”

“Klaus and I can pick locks,” Diego volunteers.

“I,” Klaus corrects, giving Diego a little wave, “can’t actually pick locks.” 

Diego glares. “I showed you like, ten times, bro, don’t tell me you forgot.”

Klaus widens his eyes. “Oh, I’m  _ sorry,”  _ he says, saccharine. “I was probably drunk.” 

Diego lunges. Ben stands up between him and Klaus, and Diego stops short of bowling him over. "Then it can't be helped," says Ben. "You're going to have to be the one looking through Dad's stuff."

Diego's glare stays on his face and then switches to Klaus' for another second before he turns, stalking back towards the sink. "Fine," he snaps. 

"I can just rumor us anything we need," Allison offers.

Ben frowns, but Luther's already shaking his head. "Use that outside too much and people will start to notice. Save it for the things we absolutely can't get by ourselves."

Ben can see a long list of rumors in their near future nonetheless -- rumors for apartments and identification papers and unremarkableness. "We should start packing," he says. "A bag with everything important that's ready to go, and one we can fill quickly if we have to. Vanya and I made lists." Ben's bag has clothes and a radio and his copy of  _ The Odyssey _ and not much else. Diego will have his knives and Vanya will have her violin and a med kit but Ben just doesn't have much that he considers important.

"Good thinking," agrees Luther. "We don't have an exact timeline for this, but we should make our move soon."

“We should set a date. It’ll give us a deadline and a goal to aim for,” Allison says, who likes her goals like she likes her planners -- organized, color-coded, and clearly labelled. 

Luther’s brow creases -- probably because after all, he’s afraid to commit like she wants them to -- but Diego says, “Two weeks.”

Ben feels the slide of adrenaline trickle down his back and says, “Two weeks sounds good.” Vanya nods agreement out of the corner of his eye.

Klaus sniffs, rolling back into his back. “Well, if that’s the earliest we can blow this popsicle stand, it’ll do.”

Allison raises an eyebrow at Luther, who’s staring at the wall in grim resignation. “All right,” she says, when he doesn’t protest. “Two weeks it is.”

Ben’s forty-five minutes into a post-mission self-drowning about three days before their running-away deadline when someone knocks on the bathroom door. He jumps at the sound and hisses when he cracks his head against the rim of the tub. Whoever it is knocks again, fast and impatient, so at least he knows it’s not Vanya. 

He drags himself out of pink-tinged suds and water and wraps himself in a towel and shuffles to the door. It’s Diego, a feverish glint in his eye, and Ben says warily, “Yes?”

“Me and Klaus found an apartment,” says Diego. “I’m getting everyone else. Five minutes.”

“Wait, wait, we’re running now?” Ben demands, his eyes darting instinctively down the hall.

“Yeah. No,” Diego amends. “I’m takin’ everyone to check it out first. We’re coming back, keep your pants on. Or put them on, man,” he adds, giving Ben a judgemental up and down. “Meet us in the courtyard.”

Ben sighs and shuts the door. 

He’s the last one out of the house, probably because everyone else actually had clothes on when Diego hauled them out of wherever they were. Everyone is wearing their coat except Vanya, who’s wearing Diego’s, and Diego, who is apparently waging a one-man war against the weather by hopping up and down to stay warm while Vanya watches, abashed. “All right,” he says, once Ben hurries to join the huddle. “Let’s go.”

“Where’s Klaus?” Luther asks, frowning.

Diego rolls his eyes disparagingly. “He didn’t wanna walk back and I wasn't going to let him stay in the apartment by himself, so I left him in the park. We’re gonna swing by and pick him up.” He jerks his head towards the gate and then they're slipping out into the streets one by one.

This is the first time all six of them have been outside the Academy together in years, maybe ever, besides the missions when Vanya used to watch with their father, and the implication sends a shiver down Ben's arms that has nothing to do with the cold. This is real. This is their decision. 

Klaus is perched on the back of a wooden bench by the time they make it to him, an oddly shaped shadow in the deserted park. The moon is high and full above then, occasionally shadowed by drifting clouds that chill the wind when they do. "Finally," he drawls, clambering down laboriously. "I obviously don't, but _ some  _ of you need your beauty sleep -- "

The air rips open before them, lit in an unearthly blue glow. Luther shoves Vanya behind him, braces for a blow, and Diego draws his knives. There's a sound like screaming fading into hearing and then it  _ is  _ screaming, hoarse and raw as something claws its way into the world. It's a person, flickering like static in the whorling epicenter, small and dark as it writhes. Then as abruptly as it appeared, the blue thing -- the portal, the wormhole -- vanishes, and drops its occupant to the ground where he lands with a groan. 

In the stunned silence, Number Five looks up, straight at Ben. "Good, you're still alive," he says. And then, like that is a totally normal thing to say when you come back three years late from your escapade through time in the body of your thirteen-year-old self, adds, "What's a man gotta do to get a double-malt scotch around here?"

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Part 2 of "Home" (which is unfortunately not as good as Hearth)! This is the six month anniversary(ish) of me watching TUA S1 but happily S2 is filming and also I'm taking a break from writing monsters to writing jaded superteens instead! Cheers if you can guess the name of Home Part 3 :^)


End file.
